


Cloak and Dagger

by Mottlemoth



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Ficlet, First Meeting, Gender or Sex Swap, Georgie Likes Posh Girls, Mycroft is a Girl's Name, Posh Girl Likes Georgie, Pre-Relationship, femstrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29942169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottlemoth/pseuds/Mottlemoth
Summary: Collected from the street and driven to a derelict factory in Shoreditch, DI Georgina Lestrade finally comes face to face with the mysterious Mycroft Holmes... and she's something of a surprise.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 7
Kudos: 67





	Cloak and Dagger

She rises from the back of the Mercedes with the presence and poise of a queen, wrapped tight in a grey wool coat against the January cold. Her dark hair has an underlying suggestion of auburn to it, just visible where the light rolls along each wave. She wears very little jewellery. A simple silver watch flashes beneath her left sleeve, but nothing else. It isn't her business to be decorative, to be looked at.

And yet she arrests Georgie's gaze like no woman ever has. She's so striking that it vaporises all thoughts of fear or danger in an instant. As she comes this way across the concrete, quite at ease in the darkness of an abandoned factory in Shoreditch, her eyes rest solely on Georgie's face.

"Inspector Lestrade," she says—and with a startled inner lurch, Georgie recognises her. It's in the intonation of those almost sinuous tones, the way she so precisely shapes the word  _ Lestrade. _ She comes to a stop in Georgie's presence, a safe two metres away, and lifts an eyebrow. "Do forgive the interruption to your evening. I have every intention of making it worth your while."

Georgie takes a second to gather her jaw up from the floor. "Mycroft?" she tries, still uncertain.

It earns her a quiet little smile.

"Voice modulation software," Mycroft says. "Astonishing, the heights of power one can attain by simply acquisitioning a male voice and male name. Few are ever given a glimpse beyond the illusion."

Georgie's brain is too slow to catch her mouth. "How come you're giving me one?" she asks.

Mycroft huffs. "I've come to the conclusion it will help. You're always terribly guarded on the telephone. It's tiresome."

_ Damn. _ Georgie swallows a little, telling herself she can handle this. She's talked to attractive women before. She's talked to clever women before. She's even talked to Mycroft Holmes before, plenty of times now, and it's absolutely true that she's never really liked the man.

But Christ alive, she likes the woman.

"Is, er... is your name actually Mycroft?" she asks.

Mycroft seems to find the question amusing. Her pebble-grey eyes glitter in the headlights of the car. "It's the name under which I've operated for many years," she says. "Far more real to me than the one on my birth certificate."

_ Huh.  _ "No wonder Sherlock smirks when he talks about his brother," Georgie mumbles, still amazed. "Can't believe he didn't tell me."

"Mm. I imagine he wanted to leave it as a happy surprise."

_ How do you know this is a happy surprise?  _ Georgie doesn't bother voicing it. Judging by the look in Mycroft's eyes, the truth is written plainly all over Georgie's face. It wouldn't take a Holmes to read her mind right now. She can't stop looking at Mycroft's mouth, her eyes, her hair, wondering how it would feel to have that soft and clever voice murmuring against her neck, melting her from the inside out.

Knowing that Mycroft can probably tell makes it all much worse.

"Fair enough," Georgie says with a breath, doing her best to at least  _ act _ like this is fine. Even if her skull is made of glass, she can keep her back straight and her voice steady. She'll die on her feet and with honour. "If you're going to try offering me money to spy on Sherlock again, the answer's still no. You can drag me around every creepy old factory in London if you want. It'll still be no."

"I realise that," Mycroft murmurs. "I'm not here to offer you money."

"No? Then what's going on?"

"We're here so I can offer you dinner, inspector. I'd very much like for you and I to learn to talk. No more... cloak and dagger. Simply honest communication."

Georgie raises an eyebrow. "You've kidnapped me to a derelict factory," she checks, "so we can move into honest communcation?"

"Correct. I've reserved us a table for two at The Connaught."

"When?"

Mycroft absently checks her watch. "In about five minutes from now."

_ Christ.  _

"Not exactly dressed for The Connaught," Georgie says, awkwardly glancing down at her crumpled work shirt and cheap M&S trousers. It's been a long week with little time for personal grooming. "Will they even let me in?"

"You'll be with me," Mycroft says, coolly. "Of course they will."

Georgie attempts not to find the unapologetic show of power attractive. "Right," she replies, briefly struck dumb. "If you say so."

Mycroft tilts her head. "You'll join me, then?"

Georgie allows herself a final moment's pause. If she'd been asked by that sleek and arrogant male voice on the phone to meet him at The Connaught for dinner, she'd have laughed and put the receiver down. She wouldn't have met Mr Mycroft Holmes for fish and chips from a van.

Things are... well, very different now.

"Suppose I didn't have anything else planned for the evening," Georgie finds herself saying with a shrug. Her heart patters in her throat. "Can't hurt."

Mycroft's eyes warm, either with pleasure or with victory. It's impossible to tell in this light.

"Excellent," she says. "In that case, you're very welcome to travel with me in the car, inspector. I hope this heralds a productive new stage in our relationship."


End file.
